Kashyap Joshi - Audiobooks/The Picture of Dorian Gray
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the picture off Dorian Grey, Chapter one. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer winds turd amidst the trees of the garden, they came through the open door, the heavy scent of the lilac or the more delicate perfume of the pink flower ring tone from the corner of the de van off Persian saddlebags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey. Sweet and honey coloured blossoms of a laburnum who's tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden off the beauty so flame, like his dad. And now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussle silk curtains that was stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of Momenta wre e Japanese effect on making him think of those pallets. Jade faced painters of Tokyo, who through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long, unknown grass are circling with monotonous insistence Round the dusty guilt homes of the straggling Woodbine seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar off London was like the board on note of a distant organ. In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full length portrait off a young man off extraordinary personal beauty. On in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Bassel ***** Word, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused at the time such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures as the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up on closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids as though he sought to imprison within his brain, some curious dream from which he feared he might awake. It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done, said Lord Henry languidly. You must certainly send it next year to the grove. Now the academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, There have been either So many people that I have not been able to see. The pictures, which was dreadful, are so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grove NYSE really the only place I don't think I shall send it anywhere, he answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford. No, I won't send it anywhere. Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue reads of smoke that curled up in such fanciful walls from his heavy, opium tainted cigarette. Not send it anywhere. My dear fellow, why have you any reason what old chaps who painters are? You do anything in the world to gain a reputation As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world. Worse than being talked about on DH, that is not being talked about. A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England and make the oldman quite jealous. Evil men are capable of any emotion. I know you will laugh at me, he replied. But I really can't exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it. Lord Henry stretched himself out on the day van and laughed.